


Howl a Home

by InTheArmsofaThief



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence Post Season 2, Christmas, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Pack Feels, Single Parent Derek, Thanksgiving, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheArmsofaThief/pseuds/InTheArmsofaThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic Request: "Please can you do a fic where Stiles' dad finds out about werewolves in S2 and ships him off to live with a relative.  He comes back X years later and Derek is a single father.  The pack is established and everyone is alive and Scott never became an alpha.  Derek and him were just testing the waters of a new relationship before he left and Derek is really mad Stiles didn't tell him he was leaving."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Help this was meant to be a one shot but I messed up and it is clearly going to be a few chapters.

Stiles rolled into Beacon Hills just after midnight, hopped up on his third cup of coffee. He wished he could have just flown from SAN to SFO and take a taxi, but it was the holidays and a last minute flight was near impossible to book and impossibly expensive. He blinked hard against the encroaching need for sleep, knowing he was breeching on dangerous levels of tired driving. At least, if he did crash, he would make it to his destination.

It wasn’t ten minutes later Stiles was pulling into the Beacon Hills Hospital parking lot. Stiles had always hated this place. Growing up, it was full of reminders of his mom. Now it was full of guilt, memories of Lydia and Scott and how he just sort of fell out of touch. Those two were all encompassing in his life when he still lived there, but distance and time made them practically strangers.

It was jarring when Stiles went to ask for his father’s room number and it was Scott’s mom manning the desk. Stiles had spent so much time with Scott back in middle school and the early years of high school that they recognized each other instantly, but it was riddled with unfamiliarity. Small talk. “Good to see you. Your dad said you’d be coming in.” “How have you been? How’s San Diego?” “Just renovated the house. Scott’s living with Isaac downtown now.” Quick tidbits of information that toes the line of friendly acquaintances.   

Mellissa walked Stiles to the room, giving him a brief overview of his dad’s health. The doctor would give Stiles care tips before checking out in the morning. His dad was okay, the nurse who had initially contacted him reassured Stiles of that about a hundred times, but he was still being held overnight and was in need of a caretaker for a while. Stiles didn’t want to leave his dad alone. He was an old man in retirement and while the station still had his back, he couldn’t expect someone to take time off to work to assist the former Sheriff.

Melissa gave Stiles a brief hug before parting ways, bridging years of silence with the motherly affection she always handed out to him. She was a good woman. It was nice to see her again.  

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles said, closing the door gently behind him. Despite the time, his father was still awake. Side effect of being a cop, Stiles supposed. Always alert, especially when the body considers itself in danger, aka the broken ribs and other various bones. His dad was a mess of casts and stitches.

“Hey kiddo,” his dad said with a tired cough. “I thought we weren’t doing Thanksgiving this year,” he tried to joke. His smile despite the injury reminded Stiles of himself. He really did take after his old man, in many ways.

“That was before you decided you wanted some fresh venison and thought the best way to go hunting was to hit one with your car.”

His dad laughed a bit. It sounded painful.

“Come on,” Stiles said, pulling one of the barely cushioned chairs over to his dad’s bedside. “Get some sleep. I’ll take this watch.”

He placed a hand over his dad’s, careful of the IV drip and clip on his finger. Stiles squeezed it gently. His dad returned the gesture.

“Good to have you home, son.” It wasn’t long before they were both asleep.

Stiles woke up to a nurse checking his dad’s vitals. “There’s a cafeteria on the first floor,” she said, not looking up from her work. “I suggest the bagel and cream cheese unless you’re a fan of rubber eggs.” Stiles looked at his father, not wanting to leave his side. “He’ll be asleep for another few hours. Melissa said you drove all the way from San Diego. Go stretch your legs and get some food.”

He sighed and with a thanks took the nurse’s suggestion. While waiting for his order, Stiles took out his phone and set up with the post office to forward his mail to his dad’s address for a while. As he struggled with zooming the screen to press the right buttons, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Stiles looked up and almost dropped his phone. Good thing he hadn’t gotten his coffee yet.

“Scott?”

“Long time no see,” Scott smiled with his dopey, crooked jaw.

“Dude, I ran into your mom last night. How’ve you been?” They did a quick bro-hug, one hand clasped between them as they patted each other the back twice, before taking in each other’s appearance. “You look good. And in scrubs.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a nurse, too. Purely pediatrics, but mom told me when your dad came in. She still works the ER. Her bosses want to move her to long term care to help take stress off her, but she protests that they’re being ageist.”

“Good for her. And good for you, man. I thought you were gonna be a vet.” Last they talked Scott was finishing up his first year at BH Community college, just trying to get his gen-ed’s out of the way before transferring to a university. Stiles had decided to take his college years as a time to explore since he didn’t really feel like he had roots anymore, ending up going for his Bachelor’s at Emerson in Boston.

Scott shrugged. “As much as it sucks either way, it’s harder for me to watch a pet die than a person. And besides, it’s really hard to work with animals when most of them hate you on sight and half the dogs try to challenge your pack hierarchy.”

Stiles cringed, for the briefest moment forgetting the most essential part of Scott’s life. But then he burst out laughing. “That’s a great picture, Scotty.”

Stiles’s name was called and he collected his food and drink.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Scott said, “I have to get back to pediatrics anyway. But we should catch up sometime.”  

“You have my number, right?” Stiles asked, pulling out his cell. “It hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, I should.”

Stiles found Scott’s contact in his phone, last message so old it was lost with his last upgrade. “Cool. I guess I’ll let you know when my dad and I figure out what we’re doing.”

“Sounds good.” They gave each other short waves and Stiles ate his bagel as he made his way back up to his dad’s room. It was just after noon when Stiles was driving his father home.

“Nice car,” his dad commented. Stiles could tell by the slur of his words that the doctors had given him some heavy pain killers before letting him out.

“I told you about buying it last year, remember?”

John nodded, running his free hand over the dashboard. There wasn’t much the doctors could do besides get him into the right casts and braces and make sure he didn’t puncture anything after a full night’s sleep, but he looked a sorry sight.

Stile’s old Jeep had been breaking down periodically since he got his license. When he moved to the East Coast for school, he really didn’t have a need for a car so they didn’t renew its plates and got the thing sold for scraps. Sure, he missed his Jeep, but being able to afford a new car felt amazing and the Mazda made for a smooth ride and his trip upstate bearable.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get his dad inside and situated on the couch. “I’ll move the furniture around and get your bed down here,” Stiles said.

The former sheriff just grunted, unhappy he needed any pampering.

Stiles texted Scott some hours later when the living room had been rearranged and he’d made dinner and rested a bit.

“So how’s life been?” Scott said after ordering his beer. Stiles had met up with him at the only bar in town. “I saw on Facebook pics of you at the convention thingy.”

“Comic-Con. Right. I work as one of the organizers, actually, so I get to go for free, which is nice.”

“So you like San Diego?”

“Love it.”

The bar tender put down a local brew and a Goose Island for Stiles. He took a sip, thankful of something to coax the stilted catch up time.

“How come you drink, anyway?” Stiles asked, nodding towards the microbrew Scott held.

“Oh, it’s, uh, blue laced,” he said moving his eyebrows up and down a few times. “Our bartender is actually, uh, umm.”

Stiles looked around him. Of course. The only bar in town was officially a supernatural one. “Just say it, Scottie. No one can hear us unless they’ve got hearing like yours.”

“Chimera.”

“Oh, good. I don’t even want to know.” Stiles took a long swig of his beer and shook his shoulders like trying to shake the phantom touch of fingers down his back. He didn’t realize how much he didn’t miss this place until he was back.

“It’s not that bad. I mean, it took a while for the pack to really settle together, but once we did there stopped being such strong threats to the town.”

Stiles sighed. He felt guilty. He always did. He hadn’t wanted to leave. He wanted to stay, to help defend what he considered his territory, for all he wasn’t a wolf. He wanted to protect his friends. But instead, his father had learned the truth of what happened at the Sheriff’s station from Melissa and when Stiles, just 16, came home beaten up, well it didn’t matter that he had helped save the town when he snuck out later. Stiles was packed up and sent to live with his Uncle Frank and Aunt Alice down state not two days later.

“Yeah, those weren’t things I could parse out from Facebook statuses,” he chuckled darkly.

“Sorry I didn’t try harder to keep in touch,” Scott cringed. “It’s hard to keep up with social media when half your life is secret.”

Stiles pat his back in solidarity. “I didn’t try as hard as I could have either, Scott. Sometimes people just stop talking.”

Through a number of awkward topic shifts and a couple of beers, Stiles and Scott eventually found their footing and were laughing like good friends again. Not quite the same solidarity they once had, but still with a kinship between them that could never truly be broken.

“And then Olivia was in for some shots today, which was a nightmare. Thank god I’m on staff because even though she doesn’t need them it still needs to go on record, you know? But she was a nightmare and nearly broke the chair when I tried to inject her.”

“Wait, who’s Olivia?” Stiles asked with a frown.

“Aw, dude, I forget what you don’t know. Yeah, you’ve probably seen her all over Erica’s Facebook. Cute kid with darkish skin and curly black hair?”

“Oh! Yeah. So that’s her and Boyd’s kid?”

Scott nearly busted out laughing. “No, man. They broke up ages ago. Erica just baby sits a lot. Olivia is Derek’s daughter.”

Stiles felt his stomach plummet like a boat down a waterfall. He wasn’t sure why, but a part of him had never even thought of the possibility that Derek could ever be with, well, anyone. “Well, that’s unexpected. Did he get married?”

Scott laughed. “Nah, man. He’s been a single dad since an old fling came by to drop off a baby.”

Scott regaled him with the tale of Braedon the mercenary and former US Marshal and their torrid affair when she came into town to hunt down a criminal in both the real world and supernatural community. It was dumb. Stiles kept thinking so. So they had wild sex and Braedon was so crazy as to think the best place for her baby was with a pack of werewolves in a town like Beacon Hills rather than with like an aunt or something if she couldn’t take care of the kid with her whole killing things lifestyle. So stupid. Stiles’s beer left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Derek was a _dad_. Derek, according to Scott, had grown the hell up since the last time Stiles was in Beacon Hills. He had had multiple relationships, bought a building that he fixed up and now managed a whole lot of tenants (although most of them were pack, apparently) and remembered Scott back in the early years of college telling him in their few and far between chats that no new threats made it into town or that they added a new pack member. But it was different, being back. It was different, knowing he had spent so much time away for no other reason than he really just didn’t want to come back.

Not for the first time, Stiles felt like a coward.

“Weird, man,” Stiles sighed, playing with his empty beer bottle. “Life. All of it. Somehow the mundane stuff seems weirder than hearing any tales of supernatural heroics. Like… Derek’s dad. Boyd’s _married_.”

“To Derek’s sister.”

“Right, Cora. She showed up not long after I left, right?” It had been one solace for Stiles, to know that even if he was gone, Derek had some family back in his life. “How the hell did she survive the fire, anyway? I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Pure serendipity, man. She was nine and had decided to ‘run away’ the night before. She had been hiding out in the root cellar when the fire happened.”

“Crazy.”

“Malia’s the weirder missing relative, let’s be honest here,” Scott laughed.

“Trapped as a coyote for most of her childhood. Yep.” Stiles wished he had ordered another beer.

“You should meet them?”

Stiles tensed. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, most of them are probably at the lofts right now. I mean, you only know maybe half of us. Oh! And you can meet Oliva! She’s really cute when she’s not having a temper tantrum.”

Scott was already throwing on his jacket and dropping some bills onto the table. In his excitement to have Stiles meet the pack, he completely missed Stiles’s apprehension of doing so. His missed Scott, he did. All their years apart, not talking, it hadn’t been unbearable, but being back in his presence and hanging out with him again, it was nice and fun, like they hadn’t missed giant chunks of each other’s lives. But the rest of the pack? People he didn’t know or people he went to high school with but never really talked to? People who he once fought and then fought with before running away on his dad’s orders? Stiles wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to see the pack again.

But Stiles was being dragged out of the bar by Scott who acted like an excited puppy and he couldn’t really say no. Stiles let Scott drive them, unworried about his car being broken into in Beacon Hills. Say what you will about the supernatural community, but normal crime rate is way done because of it.

Fifteen minutes later Stiles was inside Scott and Isaac’s shared apartment feeling wholly uncomfortable while making awkward small chat with Isaac while Scott corralled the group. He had decided to go in person to each apartment instead of just calling them and Stiles wondered if there was some down low information about him being passed around. Stiles is here, don’t mention xyz.

“Work at the cemetery still, actually,” Isaac shrugged.   “Got my old job back late junior year and just kinda kept doing it.”

“No other aspirations?” Stiles asked. He shouldn’t really judge. He had gone to school for anthropology and left with a degree in business and communications. He had started working at Comic-Con because it was an easy summer job to get if you lived in SD and his skill set brought him to the top of the food chain quickly. Stiles found out over his time in school and life that except for few people that truly have a calling in life, most just end up where they started, and depending on the potential to climb the ladder they either made it to a big boss seat or stayed… digging graves. Although Stiles suspected Isaac had more responsibility maintaining the area than he did as a teen.

“I have my hobbies,” Isaac said nodding to the array of musical instruments in the corner. He spotted Scott’s guitar next to a bass and a ukulele and a saxophone. “But I’m not going to delude myself that I’m going to be some great musician. Besides, doing it for the fun of it is what keeps you sane, you know? Can’t imagine having to do it for work.”

Stiles laughed. “True.”

Just then the door opened and a loud, happy voice yelled out “BATMAN!” before rushing over and jumping the coach. “Aw, you got cuter.”

After a few stunned seconds, Stiles pulled back from the mass of blonde curls and red lipstick. “Hello, Erica. Good to see you again.”

“I think the last time I properly saw you I was being tortured in a basement. No goodbyes, Stiles. So tactless.”

Stiles scratched the back of his head, a nervous tick. He had no idea how to handle himself around these people. Malia, he recognized her from the photos on facebook that sometimes cropped up on his feed, rounded the couch like a civilized human. Which was funny, because she was the one who grew up in the woods. “So you’re the infamous Stiles. Isaac says you’re a witch.”

Stiles furrowed his brow and looked at Isaac in confusion. “Well I definitely called you a little bitch from time to time.”

“I think she’s referring to the mountain ash job Stiles did with the kanima,” a new, deep voice joined them. Stiles turned to see Boyd. The broad black man gave a slight nod to his head. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Excatly, so he’s a witch, like Deaton.”

“Deaton’s not a witch,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “Cora’s coming down with Olivia. It’s past her bedtime but she got into the last of her Halloween candy so she needs to run off her sugar high first.”

“How do shots not affect her, but sugar does?” Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged.

“Who else is in the pack?” Stiles asked, looking around. He thought he remembered more people on Scott’s banner pic.

“Well, Ethan and Aiden left two years ago, but they pop by time to time,” Scott offered. “Danny’s a human member, same with this kid Liam. His friend Mason joined a while back. Mason’s working right now, I think.”

“Brett’s probably at the Jungle.” Erica said.

“Jackson’s on a business trip,” Boyd added.

“Lydia’s working for NASA, she doesn’t want to come back. Allison went back to France.” Scott shrugged.

“Kira’s visiting her parents,” Malia joined in, “so I have our place to myself for a few days, which has been nice.”

“And Derek should be getting home soon.” Cora sighed as she entered the room looking exhausted, immediately dropping the struggling munchkin once the door was shut behind her. She looked over to Stiles and looked him over with a heavy frown, so identical to her older brother’s that Stiles felt a little shell shocked. He felt like he was being dissected. “You must be Stiles.”

“So I must,” Stiles agreed with a nod and a pinched smile.

She huffed a little before walking over to Boyd and giving the man a kiss on the lips. Conversation slipped to asking how the former sheriff was and the same dull life points he had shared with Scott in terms of what he does for work, etc. etc.  

Olivia was running around screaming her head off. Everyone else just sort of ignored her, only talking a little louder and moving any extremities out of the way. Eventually Olivia stopped, right in front of Stiles. She sniffed him like some cartoon dog would, nose so high in the air it pushed her head back. Stiles hoped someone was teaching her not to do that in public because it wasn’t exactly normal for the human kids to do.

“You smell like the ocean!” she exclaimed.

Stiles quirked his lips. She was a cute kid, hyperactivity aside. Stiles could forgive that. He had ADHD as a kid. “I go surfing a lot.”

“Have you met any mermaids?” she asked excitedly.

Stiles blinked, his mouth gaping a bit. He never even toyed with the thought that mermaids might be a real thing. He looked around for help, maybe to learn if they _were_ real or not, but no one was giving him anything.

“Uh, no. I haven’t.”

Olivia pouted before jumping and screaming “DADDY!” She ran to the door. The room watched, unconcerned as she flung the door open and into the hallway. Stiles could hear her gleeful laugh and a low murmur of someone’s voice talking to her.

Stiles felt his body coil in tension because he knew who was down the hall. A few moments later, Derek rounded the corner with Olivia on his hips, all eyes on her with a rainbow sunshine smile on his face. “Why are we all at Scott’s tonight?” he asked before he noticed the new scent and looked up and froze.

Stiles saw a myriad of emotions cross Derek’s face as he looked at Stiles. “Stiles. Hey.”

“Derek.”

A stillness settled over the room, only interrupted by Olivia’s squirming to be put down. Stiles cleared his throat and stood up, brushing the back of his jeans. “Uh, it was nice seeing you all, but I should probably get back, make sure my dad took his meds and is actually sleeping.”

“Do you need a ride?” Derek asked, a faux calmness about him.

“Uh, just back to my car at the bar?” Stiles said, looking towards Scott who he assumed would grab his keys. Instead Scott was sipping a hot cider innocently.

“I’ll take you,” Derek offered. “Just let me get this one to bed.”

“Noooooooooooooooo,” Olive whined, almost doing a mini howl. It was adorable.

“It’s past your bedtime already,” Derek said, kissing the top of her head. “Fifteen minutes,” he told Stiles before heading back out, presumably to whichever floor and apartment was Derek’s.

Stiles looked over to the rest of the pack. “Was this a set up of some kind? Because that definitely felt like a set up.”

“Oh, come on, Stiles,” Erica snarked. “You have to know there’s unresolved issues between you two. The rest of us, well, we're just the same old story of people falling out of favor when they fall out of proximity. You two,” she said, pointing a perfectly manicured nail between Stiles and the door.

“Haven’t talked since the day I left,” Stiles supplied. “You realize that’s on him, right?” Stiles looked around. They did. “So this is a set up for him because you all think he’s matured enough now to talk to me,” he put together.

“Hey,” Isaac said with a smirk, “he’s the one who offered to drive you home.”

It’s not home, Stiles thought to himself. “Do you guys connive behind your alpha’s back often?” Stiles asked a bit bitterly.

Cora outright laughed, something wicked behind her eyes. All the time, it told him.

Not ten minutes later Derek was back downstairs, his hair swept back a bit and the keys to his car in his hand. “You ready?”

Stiles looked around as he grabbed his jacket, unsure how he felt about this situation. “I guess so.”

“Oh, before we forget, Stiles!” Erica said, jumping up to meet Stiles. “You should totally come over Thursday for dinner. Bring your dad. He’ll probably be dying to get out of the house by then.”

Stiles nodded. “If it’s okay with you?” Stiles asked, turning to Derek.

Derek just stared at him for a couple of heartbeats before finally nodding. “Yeah, that sounds great. We always make too much food, anyway.”

Somehow Stiles doubted that a table full of werewolves ever had _too much_ food. But he thanked them for the invite anyway and followed Derek out the door. Neither of them said a word the entire way to the car, Stiles both waiting for Derek to say something and half worried all the super ears upstairs were still listening in.

“So, you got a kid,” Stiles started, already feeling jittery from the short stretch of silence. “Never pictured you the type of guy to knock a girl up. You always seemed so detail oriented and so careful in approaching a relationship. Like, I mean, she's cute and you seem glad to have her in your life,” Stiles rambled, “but I expected you to follow the steps of love then marriage then comes the baby in the baby carriage, you know?”

Derek gave him a flat look as he started up the car. “It was heat of the moment, post battle sex. We weren't really thinking about protection.”

Stiles hummed, remembering how Lydia and Jackson clung to each other, ready to never leave each other's sights after his second shift. He remembered how Scott and Allison would collide together like magnets after each dangerous escapade. He remembered the pull under his skin he always suppressed; yelling at him to just pull that stupid leather jacket close and kiss him because for fuck sake they're alive.

“I can imagine,” Stiles said. “She seems like a good kid.”

“She's the best.”

The utter warmth and love in Derek's voice was heartbreaking. Stiles had never seen him like this. It was different, but it was as if he had become more himself over the years, rather than crumbling back in on himself.

They drove in silence, an uneasy tension building between them. Derek’s face was a calm mask but Stiles didn’t miss how Derek’s grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to almost brake.

“Why did you offer to drive me?”

Derek glanced at Stiles with a frown. “You needed a ride.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, keeping his eyes out the window. “Scott could have driven me back to the bar, you know. You could have spent a little bit more time with your kid or something. You only just got home.”

“I don’t know, Stiles. What do you want me to say?” he snapped.

Stiles sighed. “I don’t know.”

The heavy silence came back. They didn’t talk the rest of the ride to the bar. As Derek pulled up, he flexed his grip on the steering wheel. “How long are you going to be in town?”

Stiles cleared his throat, his fingers twitching at the door handle just waiting for the car to stop. “Uh, dad should be getting his casts off in about two months. Then another month of physical therapy. I wanna stick around until he’s able to get around and take care of himself again, so.”

“Right.”

A moment. Two. Stiles looked up to meet Derek’s eyes. “I guess I’ll see you Thursday,” Stiles said, popping the door open.

“Thursday.”

Stiles got out of the car and marched to his Mazda without looking back. He didn’t know how he felt about spending Thanksgiving with the pack. He wasn’t a part of that family. He hadn’t been for a long time, and even when he was around he didn’t think they were anything close to the strong unit the pack has become. He was an outsider here.

The entire ride home Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he saw Derek. Sixteen and shaking with a fear that refused to subside, Stiles hung back watching Lydia help Jackson reorient himself, Chris console Allison and usher her out of the warehouse as quickly as possible, Scott make sure Isaac wasn’t hurt after checking in briefly with Stiles. He had been alone and in pain and afraid despite the rapid end to the whole fight. And then Derek had put a hand on his shoulder.

Stiles still remembers how careful and gentle he was, making sure Stiles was okay to drive home. And Stiles, without really thinking, flung his arms around the older man and held him tight, half to stop himself from shaking, half to assure himself that Derek was okay, alive. They had all made it out alive.

By the time Stiles was able to let go, everyone else had cleared out. Derek had rubbed a thumb over the swelling bruise on Stiles’s cheek and their eyes caught. And Stiles did the stupidest thing a 16 year old can do. He kissed Derek. And to his total surprise, whether it was because of the near death experience or genuine feelings, Derek kissed Stiles back.

They had talked it over, the best they could for two emotional wrecks. But before Stiles made it home that night they had decided to see where they could lead, Stiles finally convincing Derek that his age didn’t matter. Stiles had grown up more in that last semester of school than the decades he aged when his mom died.

Of course, when Stiles made it home his father had already called his Aunt and Uncle in San Diego and took his phone away. Stiles left Beacon Hills in the morning without a chance to tell anyone.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered. Stiles thought of all his failed relationships, always crumbling around a what-if that suddenly felt like a twisting cosmos inside of him.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles helped his father hobble up the stoop and down the hall to the elevators. Derek’s loft was hosting, biggest space for everyone. Scott said they once hosted a rave when Derek was away and it was a success, but also led to a very pissed off Derek. Stiles wasn’t disappointed once they made their way to his front door which was actually an industrial sliding gate.

“Fancy,” Stiles muttered as Scott greeted him.

“Werewolves, go big or go home,” his dad joked back.

Scott laughed and showed them inside. Most of the pack was already there, cooking and laying out food on the table. A lot of them were already eating, which didn’t surprise Stiles at all. But looking at the spread, Stiles almost believed Derek’s words that they maybe did make too much food for Thanksgiving.

There were four enormous turkeys, each with their own kind of stuffing. Two different mashed potatoes, another one Isaac explained was actually cauliflower. Mac and Cheese. Bacon Mac and Cheese. Two different green bean casseroles. Stiles counted ten pies. Jackson arrived soon after them, bringing his family recipe for mint pears. More bread than Stiles could fathom even their bunch of wolves eating. Cora and Malia were fighting in the kitchen as how to properly make the cranberries. And two boys Stiles didn’t recognize were clearly trying to deep fry _another_ turkey.    

“Oh god, I feel like I’m having a heart attack already,” Stiles said, his mouth watering.    

Erica bounded down the metal staircase and quickly forced Stiles and his dad into comfy seats, gathering plates for them. Thanksgiving, as Erica explained, is a very laid back affair full of mostly eating and some very heated board games.

Scott and Isaac were setting up for a game, their plates full on the ground next to them. Scott asked if Stiles wanted to join the first round but Stiles looked to his dad who could barely bring food to his mouth and declined. He was in the middle of cutting of his dad’s meat to more manageable bites, ignoring the old man’s grumbling, when Stiles felt something tickle the back of his neck. He looked up and spotted Derek coming down the metal stairs, Olivia on his shoulder like a queen. Derek was looking right at him, something distant behind his eye despite how happily he talked with his daughter.

“Sorry I’m late to my own party,” Derek said as he set Olivia down and pushed to her go bother Danny, who was wrapping up a phone call on the balcony. “That one decided to ‘help make dinner’ earlier and then refuse let me wash the pie filling off.”

“I can sympathize,” John said, giving his son a withering stare.

Stiles gaped like a fish. “I never was covered in pie filling as a child,” Stiles protested.

“Pancakes.”

“Oh, right.”

Derek quirked a smile but quickly schooled his features. “Enjoy the food,” he offered, before heading off to the kitchen. Probably to make sure no one had killed anyone else, whether by design or accident.

“This is awkward, isn’t it?” his dad asked.

“Yep,” Stiles popped.

It had been ten years. It was like a high school reunion, except he was the only one who half remembered people. Everyone else was as thick as thieves.

Things loosened up a bit when Danny got Stiles into a conversation about some of the Comic-Con panels he’s been to. Stiles finally stopped fussing over his dad, who enjoyed his meal in peace with some light conversation from Jackson, who was apparently a lawyer John had worked with a few times when he was still on the force.

Everything just felt… homey. Stiles never had big family gatherings at his Aunt and Uncle’s place. Sometimes he had social parties after college, small things where people were there just get plastered, but they had a different vibe than this. It was comforting, in a way, despite the way it made something crawl under his skin. Like he’d been away too long for him to really fit in.

Then all of a sudden he had a child in his lap.

“Whoa, hey there,” Stiles said, moving his beer bottle away from her squirming limbs.    

“You’re Stiles.”

Stiles sort of looked at her like a gaping fish. “Uh, yes. I am. And you’re Olivia.”

The girl beamed like he had just called her the next Disney Princess. Then she scrunched up her face, almost angrily. “Where have you been?”

Stiles blinked. “Um. I’m not sure what you mean, sweetie.”

“Auntie Erica says you used live here but you don’t anymore but you still feel like pack but you’re not here so where have you been?” her voice was so accusatory Stiles almost felt ashamed for not having been around, like a missing parent, before he registered what the girl really said.

“I feel like pack?” Stiles asked to the room at large, confused.

“Olivia!” Derek barked, a tone harsh enough for a toddler but no real heat behind it. “Get off him. I told you Stiles and his father were guests and to treat them that way.”

Olivia looked really shamefaced as she climbed off of Stiles with a muttered, “Sorry.”

The rest of the house had gone silent, an awkward air to what had previously been a relaxing evening.

Stiles looked to Derek with a frown, hoping for some answers, but all Derek did was glare. He turned to Scott instead, who shrugged with that dopey look of his that could get him out of any kind of trouble. “You don’t really ever leave a pack unless you join a new one or lose your alpha,” Scott explained. “Even omegas have a connection to their old pack. The only thing that breaks that is if they find a new alpha or if their old pack has a regime change.”

Stiles nodded slowly, his jaw tight. He didn’t know how he felt being a human omega, or what being back here meant for him. “Right,” Stiles said, clearing his throat.

“You know, it’s been great,” John said after a short stretch of silence, “but I think the tryptophan is kicking in and I should really be making back to my bed soon, old guy like me.”

Stiles looked over to his dad, grateful. They had only been there for a little over an hour, but it was enough for them to eat their fill.

“It’s been… nice,” Stiles said. He gave everyone he knew from high school short goodbyes, Scott a pat on the back, the assortment of others a brief nod and wave, and Derek, well, their eyes locked for a moment before the wolf turn around to find his daughter.

“Sorry about that,” John said on the car ride home. “Should have moved away after I retired.”

Stiles shook his head. “You would have hated not being able to keep an eye on things.”

The years had taught Stiles that Beacon Hills wasn’t safe, but his dad would always feel he was its protector. Supernatural events aside, his dad knew every citizen of their town by now, he was ingrained into the community. He couldn’t uproot that as easily as he could his son, the wild spirit that needed to run free before he burned out.  

“I didn’t keep a very good eye on you.”

Again, Stiles shook his head. “You can’t save a village when your focus is torn by the people you care about. Superhero 101. You did what was best for me. I really believe that.”

His dad’s hand came to rest over Stiles’s where he was loosely clutching the gear shift. They stayed silent the rest of the way home.

Stiles didn’t run into any of the pack for the next week and a half. It was actually at the library, Stiles going stir crazy with his free time. It wasn’t exactly off season, but the organizing of a lot of his events were still in the negotiation stage as to who all is going to be there, which Stiles didn’t handle as much as other things. So work was slow, and his dad was sleeping most of the day. Apparently Mason, one of the pack Stiles had never met before Thanksgiving, was working there.

“Derek loves that series,” he said. Stiles jumped not hearing the guy walk up. Mason smiled and restacked a book near where Stiles was looking. “We got him the 10th anniversary box set for Christmas last year.”

“Cool,” Stiles said, shifting on his feet awkwardly. “Mason, right?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, we didn’t really get to talk at the party. Got awkward really quick.”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “Understatement.”

“So what’s the story between you two? It seemed all the senior members of the club knew something I didn’t.”

Stiles shrugged, picking a book at random and scanning the back cover. “You’re a werewolf, right?”

Mason nodded.

“What did you read off of Derek when we were in the same room?”

Mason leaned against the bookshelf and looked Stiles over. “He was trying too hard to seem normal. There was this bitterness about him. I’m not so good reading the chemosignals as some of the others, but it felt like betrayal, heartbreak, anger. It was pretty underlying, but it was there.”

Stiles put the book back. “And from me?”

Mason took a moment. It seemed like he was wondering if he should tell the truth. “Fear.”

It was blunt, but it was accurate. “I’m not sure I ever really felt comfortable with him,” Stiles admitted. “We haven’t talked or seen each other in 10 years and it’s as if all the tension between us has just been building up like a geyser.”

“And that tension is?” Mason asked, smirking.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Gotta go.”

He turned on his heel and left the library. Mason didn’t bother to follow or call out to him.

After that it was like a flood gate. He kept running into pack members. Cora at the grocery store. Malia and Jackson at the bank. Isaac and Boyd at the park when he started bringing his dad out because his old man was getting stir crazy. Mason again when he went back to the library to actually check out books. Liam and Scott at the diner when Stiles snuck off to eat junk food. Erica at the mall with Olivia. Brett at the gas station. Stiles started to wonder if it was on purpose, if they were sniffing him out to get him to be more social, but most of them seemed genuinely happy and surprised to see him.

He never ran into Derek. Not that Stiles thought about it much. Not that with each run in with a pack member they mentioned how their alpha was doing and that Stiles should stop by at the full moon or plans for Christmas etc etc. Not that Stiles kept thinking about what Oliva said about not being pack but smelling like pack. Not that Stiles wondered how he could smell like a pack he had never really been a part of, let alone ten years of separation. Not that Stiles cared if he ran into Derek. Not that he worried if Derek was avoiding him.

Stiles banged his head against the kitchen counter.

“You okay there kiddo?” his dad asked from where he was carefully eating a bowl of cereal, perched awkwardly in his braces.

“My brain is stupid.”

John snorted. “What’s it this time?”

“Can’t stop thinking.”

“Most philosophers would consider that a testament to your humanity and existence,” John said around a mouthful of cornflakes.

Stiles scoffed. “Since when did you get so high and mighty?”

“Gotta be to keep up with you.” John gestured with his spoon. “Now wanna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Stiles sighed. “There are too many red strings here.” He thunked his head against the counter again, letting it rest there. “Everything’s a knotted mess and my life was so simple before. And now I can’t stop thinking.”

“About?”

Stiles sighed again, a heavy thing that felt like the weight of the world was seeping into his back. “What if I had stayed? Finished high school here? Would I still be here? Would I have taken off like Lydia? Would things be better or worse? For me? For them? I just…” Stiles trailed off, not knowing what his brain was doing. Not knowing how he felt about this, about the people he kept running into, about the one person he didn’t.

“Too late for that,” John said. “And it’s not like you had a choice in the matter.”

“I could have come home sooner,” Stiles offered.

“But you didn’t. You’re here now. Life happened. You all grew up. It’s just about how you want to continue growing.”

“I travel a lot for my job,” Stiles said.  

“But except for the actual conventions, you mostly work from home, right?” John countered.

“I have friends in San Diego.”

“Friends, as in people you go and do things with or friends as in people you go to the bar with once a week.”

“Bar.” Stiles stared at the off white tiles of the kitchen counter, blurry from the close proximity. “I’ve been living in my apartment for three years so it’s a month by month lease now.”

“You don’t have a significant other down there,” his father mused.

Stiles raised his head and looked at his dad, lost in a way he hadn’t felt in ages. “What am I considering here, dad?”

“Well, it sounds to me,” his dad said, drinking the dregs of his cereal from the bowl, “that that little girl was right, and you’ve probably always been a part of this pack.”

Stiles had never thought he wanted to come back. After getting used to San Diego, going to Boston for college, road tripping with some college buddies he lost touch with after coming back to SoCal, getting a job and making work friends, Stiles hadn’t even noticed the pangs in his chest that he felt so strongly now. That feeling that something had been missing. He hadn’t even noticed, but it had always been there.

Stiles still had a lot of things to think over, but in one aspect, Stiles made up his mind.

He needed to talk to Derek.

Stiles hadn’t come by on the full moon, not wanting to be around during the hormonal mess werewolves became, no matter how much of a party Erica and Scott insisted it was. Considering how Thanksgiving went, he didn’t think it was a good idea. But Christmas was in two days and he had been invited to come over by everyone he met and he needed to see Derek before a group gathering. He needed to clear the air.

Stiles waited until he knew one of the others was watching Oliva before heading over. This wasn’t the type of conversation he wanted to have with little ears around. Luckily, Erica was more than willing to keep him updated. He drove over around three in the afternoon, his heart beating out of his chest, his hands clammy and lip bitten raw. This was such a stupid idea, he kept telling himself. He didn’t know why he was doing this, what he expected to happen.

“Derek,” Stiles was talking the moment he got off the elevator. “I know you’re home. I really need to talk to you.”

The door to the loft was opening by the time he reached the end of the hall. Derek stood there, scowling. Stiles had a sudden reminder to how Derek was back then, angry and afraid, always looking behind his shoulder. There was always a reason to. Here Derek looked stoic, yet softer somehow. Angry and defensive, but not as broken and afraid as he used to be. There was determination behind his eyes, about what Stiles could only guess.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked. He crossed his arms, a defensive gesture that looked wrong with his strong arms and soft shirt.

Stiles barged past Derek and into the loft. He began to pace alongside the industrial windows, words churning in his head but unable to come out.

“Why does your daughter say I smell like pack?” Stiles blurted. He needed to know. If nothing else, he needed to know.

Derek only glared.

“How, after ten years of no communication, of not even being in this town, is that even possible?” Stiles asked. It didn’t make any sense. Scott had explained a little about not switching alphas, but Stiles never had an alpha. He was never a part of this pack. He was always an outlier. It was only four months. He only really knew Derek for four months. He shouldn’t be feeling this way.

“You _were_ my pack, Stiles,” Derek spit. “Scott never wanted anything to do with me. Isaac was siding with Scott. My undead uncle was just trying to use me. Jackson was a kanima. Erica and Boyd had abandoned me. It’s a miracle we were all able to come back together at all. But even with you having Scott’s back, you had mine, too.”

Stiles blinked. He stopped pacing. He had never thought of it that way. Even with how much he obsessed over him recently, Stiles hadn’t really thought about where Derek was in life back then.

“And then you just fucking left.” Derek voice was so cold Stiles shivered.

“I didn’t-”

“You did.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Derek,” Stiles snapped. Something in him shook. Tears burned at the corner of his eyes. “I came home that night and my dad had already made the arrangements. I was out of town in the matter of hours and didn’t get to say goodbye to _anybody_.” He could tell Derek was seething, but it had to come out. “I was packed up and shipped away and I don’t even hate my dad for it, because he was right. I could have died here, the way the town was back then.”

Derek breathed heavily out of his nose. The tension was palpable. Stiles sighed, the fight leaving his body.

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to anyone, but I tried to stay in contact. You’re the only one who wouldn’t talk to me.”

It was true. It wasn’t lack of trying.

Stiles noticed how tight Derek’s grip on his biceps were, white knuckles and claws poking his skin through his shirt. “You never came back,” Derek whispered.

“I didn’t know I could,” Stiles admitted. He had felt so alienated from Beacon Hills, it didn’t feel possible.

Derek walked over to him. “Why are you here?”

Stiles breathed in sharply. A part of him still didn’t know the answer. “I’ve been here a month and I don’t want to leave,” Stiles admitted.

“But why are you _here_?” Derek repeated.

“You’re the alpha,” Stiles said. “You’re my alpha, right?”

Derek gulped. “Yeah.”

“So, if I wanted to come back, I would have to ask my alpha, right?”

They looked at each other, eyes frozen on each other. “You’re sure about this?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said.

“Then why?”

Stiles shrugged. “It feels right, being here.” He felt more settled than he had in years, something deep inside spreading that he hadn’t known he needed.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Stiles quirked his head to the side, not sure what Derek meant.

“It feels right, having you be here,” Derek said in near whisper.

“I-” Stiles started, cutting himself off. He felt like he was swimming or floating or drifting, a sea of chaos and stillness. “I missed you so much.”

Derek’s fingers twitched at his biceps. He dropped his hands. “I missed you, too.”

Four months. It only took four months for them to sink hooks into each other, and ten years couldn’t seem to shake them. Stiles reached over and gently held Derek’s hand, two fingers hooking together.

“What are we, twelve?” Derek scoffed, a bashful tug of his lips. He was blushing, though.

Stiles smiled brilliantly and leaned forward. He kissed Derek, slow and softly. Their lips lingered, and Stiles wanted more but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time for remembering who they were all those years ago and recognizing who they turned into. “I’ll see you on Christmas,” Stiles promised. “We’ll take things slow. And we’ll figure things out. Okay?”

Derek nodded. “Okay.”

They stood there, content in each other’s presence because they finally let themselves be. Stiles kissed Derek again, just because he could. “Merry Christmas, Derek.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Stiles dropped Derek’s hand, fingers trailing down his skin until they lost contact, and stepped to the front door.

They still had a lot to figure out, and lot of thinking they had to do, a lot of talking. But for now, a kiss was a promise for a lifetime.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm not that happy with how this turned out but I have to admit that I was just trying to finish it. It was a really interesting prompt that got me going at first, but since I didn't start out with an idea and end goal of my own I think all my inspiration fizzled out pretty quick, so I'm sorry if it's not up to snuff compared to a lot of my other fics. But that's okay, it was just meant to be a fun thing. And forcing myself to write when I don't have the brain to do so was a good exercise. Hope people like it anyway!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> [FIND ME ON TUMBLR](http://www.inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also! I'm made a webseries about werewolves! [The Werewolf Diaries](http://www.youtube.com/c/amyberserk)


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